Chapter Text
Friday, December 13th, 1996
Sirius felt his lips curl up into a smile as they pulled away from Percy’s. The other boy’s lips had tasted like marshmallows and chocolate from the campfire. Percy snuck one last quick kiss before pulling back fully.
“I love you, Angel,” Percy whispered, hands still tangled in Sirius’ loose braid.
“I love you, too, Beach Boy.”
Percy dropped his hands, and Sirius let his own fingers detangle from Percy’s bright orange camp tee. He didn’t step back, but neither did Percy. They hadn’t seen each other since late-September, when Percy had taken a portkey to Scotland for their one month anniversary. But now they had three full weeks together until they both had to go back to school.
Sirius finally stepped back from staring into the ocean concealed in Percy’s eyes when he heard the harpies start to move about.
“I’ll see you for breakfast?” he asked as he stepped off the front stoop of Cabin Three.
“Course!” Percy grinned. “Good night!”
Saturday, December 14th, 1996
Sirius frowned as he walked up the front steps of Cabin Three. Percy liked to sleep in as much as any other teenager, but he never missed breakfast. As demigods, they were never sure when they would be getting in a fight with a monster, so you didn’t skip breakfast.
“Percy?”
He knocked on the door, but there was no response. He knocked harder. Percy was a light sleeper unless he was actually knocked unconscious. There was no reason he shouldn’t be answering.
“Percy, I’m coming in!”
Sirius twisted the knob and swung the door open. The cabin was empty. The saltwater fountain in the corner ‒ which Tyson had repaired when the renovations to camp were being made last summer ‒ was running, and all the beds were made. Percy’s duffle bag was sitting on his bed, looking untouched.
Panic immediately filled Sirius. The cabin was too pristine. Nowhere Percy lived was that clean. The covers of his bed should have been unmade. His bag should at the least be half opened. Clothes should already be on the floor. There was no way Percy had slept there last night.
“Chiron!” Sirius shouted, running out of the cabin. “Remus! Grover!”
Sunday, December 15th, 1997
They had combed the beach and woods. Every cabin had been looked through. Sirius had already Iris Messaged Nico in the Underworld to ask if he’d heard anything. There was no news. They had had a councilor’s meeting just after dinner, when no sign of Percy had been found. Chiron had split the cabins into search groups and had taken it upon himself to contact the Hunters of Artemis.
Butch, a son of Iris who had taken over caring for the pegasi after Silena’s death, was assigning pegasi to each group. Will Solace, now the head of the Apollo cabin after Michael Yew had gone off to college, even leant the flying chariot to the effort.
Sirius collapsed on the beach, kicking off his shoes and letting the water lap at his toes. He had seen Percy in this exact position so many times over the last four years, whenever he needed to think something over. It made Sirius feel a little closer to him.
“You should head to sleep,” Remus said softly. He sat down cross-legged next to Sirius.
Sirius shook his head. “Not tired.”
That was a lie. Sirius was exhausted. But it was an emotional exhaustion. His brain was running a mile a minute, each second imagining the many brutal, bloody catastrophes that could have become Percy.
“You can’t help if you collapse,” said Remus.
Sirius refused to look at him. What if he slept, and when he woke up, Percy had already been found, his mangled remains left behind by some monster or vindictive god?
“We can stay out here,” Remus offered. “Chiron said he’d keep the harpies away for tonight.”
Sirius nodded, but he still didn’t speak. He didn’t think he could without breaking down. Remus wrapped a blanket that Sirius hadn’t even seen him bring down around their shoulders. Under the blanket, they leaned against each other, staring at the moon’s reflection in the water.
Monday, December 16th, 1997
Sirius’ sleep hadn’t been restful. He had been haunted throughout the night by dreams of Percy dying in increasingly horrifying ways. Luckily, none of them had been demigod dreams. When he woke up, he instantly reached out. Normally, it took a matter of seconds to find Percy’s spirit, as familiar as Sirius was with it.
It took him almost a full minute.
And even then, it was faded. Like it was stretched farther away than even the furthest corner of the earth. But he wasn’t dead. That meant their was still hope.
The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, the sky still a brilliant fuschia. The blanket had gotten twisted around Sirius and Remus throughout the night. The bottom was soaked from the tide coming up, and Sirius did his best to kick it off.
Next to him, Remus was still asleep, but his face was twitching, eyes scrunched tight in distress. His gray eyes burst open, and he sat up, nearly banging his forehead against Sirius’.
“Hera!” he gasped.
“What?” Sirius asked.
“Hera gave me a vision.” Remus looked desperately at Sirius. “She said I’ll find out what happened to Percy if I go to the Grand Canyon and look for a guy with one shoe.”
“Do you think Percy’s there?” Sirius asked.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
They jumped to their feet and rushed up the beach, leaving the blanket behind. A wave from the sound rose up and crashed down. The blanket was pulled into the water.
Sunday, July 28th, 2013
It had been almost two months since Sirius had saved Harry’s life in what Regulus had informed him was the Chamber of Secrets. Sirius would love to know how his godson/adopted son had ended up in Slytherin’s fabled chamber, but Regulus couldn’t risk visiting him for more than a few minutes at a time, dropping off a little bit of food each time.
Sirius glanced at the tally marks scrawled in the dust in the corner of his cell. It had been almost three weeks since Regulus’ last visit. He wouldn’t be by for another week.
Pulling the ratty blanket closer around his shoulders, Sirius curled up further in the corner, as far from the cell doors ‒ and the dementors ‒ as he physically could be. He was about to transform, his animagus form offering more warmth and protection from the soul-sucking creatures, when he heard voices down the hall.
That was odd. The guards had walked through earlier that day, and the clouds outside were still a light gray, not yet the color they’d be for the evening meal of hardtack and occasionally, if the guards were in a good mood, a piece of jerky. Were they bringing a new prisoner in?
Sirius shuffled slightly forward. The incessant rambling of the other prisoners, all convicted Death Eaters on this floor, picked up in volume. Bellatrix’s haunting cackle rang down the hall that housed their cells. Walking down the hall, surrounded on either side by guards and aurors, was a portly wizard in a pinstripe cloak. He held a lime green bowler hat in one hand and a newspaper in the other.
Sirius watched them as they approached; Minister Fudge on his yearly inspection of Azkaban. Sirius hadn’t realized it was already time for that.
“Hello,” Sirius said as they were about to pass his cell.
Fudge stopped abruptly. He turned his head wildly to stare at Sirius. Sirius smiled, showing off his yellowed teeth.
“How do you do, Minister?” Sirius asked.
“That’s Black, Minister,” a guard whispered to Fudge, loud enough for Sirius’ animagus-honed ears to pick up. “Sirius Black.”
The Minister’s eyes widened. “Black,” he said, his voice nervous and breathless. “You seem...”
“Well?” Sirius asked. “Not really. Though I suppose when the rest of this lot is your basis of comparison.”
“Right, well...” Fudge stammered. “Of course.”
“Do I make you nervous, Minister?” Sirius asked.
“Of ‒ of course not.”
Sirius nodded sagely. “Very convincing, sir.” He blinked up at Fudge from his seat on the floor, legs criss-crossed in front of him, as several of the aurors pointed their wands at him. “You finished with that?”
“W-what?” Fudge squeaked.
Sirius pointed, not bothering to hide his smirk. “The paper. I miss doing the crossword, you see.”
One of the aurors tried to pull Fudge back, but the man nervously held out the paper, folded open to the sports page. Sirius reached out and grabbed it, not even flinching at the wands pointed at him. The aurors didn’t calm when he pulled his hand back, keeping their wands raised.
“Thanks for this, Minister.” Sirius raised the paper slightly. “Enjoy the rest of your inspection. Drink a nice hot drink for me after this. Don’t think I’ve eaten one warm thing since I was thrown in here.”
Sirius watched, still smiling guilelessly as the aurors and prison guards quickly ushered Fudge the rest of the way down the hall and out of the high security vault, not letting him falter for even a moment outside of any of the other cells.
Unfolding the paper, Sirius glanced at the front cover. It wouldn’t hurt to actually know the date. He froze when he saw the picture under the headline.
Hand shaking, for once not due to the cold, Sirius ran his finger over the rat resting on the tall, gangly boy’s shoulder. The rat’s two front feet were curled into the boy’s shirt, but, clear as day, Sirius could see one was missing a toe. He quickly read the article.
The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children still attend .
It was easy to see the boy with the rat was young, maybe even around Harry’s age. If the rat was his, which it appeared to be, then it would be at Hogwarts this coming year, with Harry.
Regulus wasn’t due for at least a week. And that was if he was able to sneak in. There had been a few times where the guards decided they needed to supervise more, and Regulus hadn’t been able to get in. Sirius needed to warn someone about Pettigrew now. There was no time to waste.
He settled in to make a plan.
Monday, July 29th, 2013
Sirius had tossed and turned throughout the night before, dreams like he hadn’t had since before Azkaban flying through his brain. Every single nightmare was of Harry lying dead on the ground, Pettigrew standing over him.
Sometimes, Harry’s throat would be slit, others, his chest ripped open by an overpowered sectumsempra, that disgusting hex Snape had invented. Most of the time, however, there wasn’t a mark on Harry. His dead eyes would be staring open and sightless at Pettigrew’s wand, the killing curse still on the rat’s lips.
Sirius had woken up with one final gasp, his heart pounding, when the guards had come to drop off his “breakfast”. They had stared at him oddly, muttering under their breath to each other. Sirius ignored them, sitting up to rest his chin on his knees. He watched as they carelessly threw his hardtack to the filthy floor.
Sirius swallowed the last bit of hardtack, feeling it stick to his throat. The guards had finished dropping off their breakfast almost half an hour ago. He had another 12 hours until they would be back to drop off dinner. If he stuck to the shadows, that meant he might be able to sneak out. Taking a deep breath, Sirius transformed.
Now on four feet, Sirius crept to the cell door. The bars were too close together for Sirius to fit through as a human, his skull too wide, but Sirius was equally emaciated in his animagus form, and his head was a lot smaller. Sirius stuck his head through the gates. Sucking in his breath, he squeezed the rest of his body through. He felt his ribs creak as they were compressed by the bars. He grunted as he finally made it through.
He walked through the middle of the aisle, none of the other prisoners aware enough to even notice him. The door at the end of the hall was easy to push open with his nose. They didn’t bother latching it. After all, it was impossible to escape from Azkaban.
Sirius stuck to the shadows as he worked his way through the rest of the prison, the layout a distant memory from his time delivering suspected Death Eaters to the prison to await trial when the Ministry holding cells were full. As he made his way to the bottom, his chest felt lighter. There were less dementors the closer to ground level he got, and the frigid cold was already lifting from his bones.
Less than 30 minutes after starting his escape attempt, Sirius was standing on the rocks, facing the Black Sea. If he remembered correctly from his auror days, Azkaban was only four miles off the coast of Fair Isle, the southernmost Shetland Island. There was a Floo there, normally unmanned, that could take him back to the mainland. He just had to swim and hope he picked the right direction. If not, he would drown.
Sirius put his front two paws in the water, feeling the waves crash against his scrawny limbs. Lord Poseidon , he prayed, please help me. I need to get back to Percy and Harry. Harry’s in danger, and I need to warn them. Please.
Sirius leaped.
The water was like icy needles, stabbing into his fur coat. He swam, kicking his legs and pushing away from his island prison. Every time a wave crashed over his head, he sputtered, but he kept going. He couldn’t afford to stop.
Sirius had no concept of time. All around him, waves roared and crashed. His muscles ached more than they ever had in any battle he’d fought in. They burned, fiery pain coursing through his body. Sirius pushed through. There was no sound but the wind and waves. There were no feelings except the icy cold.
Sirius kept swimming.
A wave crashed over Sirius’ head, pushing him down. He kicked and struggled, trying to push himself up, but he couldn’t even tell which way was up. His muscles no longer burned, instead, he couldn’t feel them at all. He tried to kick one last time, but his legs gave out. He floated there, suspended in the water, unable to breath.
Sirius’ eyes closed.
When Sirius opened his eyes again, he was on a shore. He rolled carefully onto his front, front paws laid out in front of him. In between his legs, was a conch shell. It looked like Sirius had prayed to the wrong god. He would need to sacrifice something to Triton.
Stumbling to his feet, Sirius started walking towards the town he could see at the other end of the beach. He needed to find food and shelter. The stars were shining high in the sky, and Sirius was still bone tired, despite the amount of time he had spent unconscious.
Sirius wandered into the town, looking just like any other stray dog roaming the port town. His first step was finding a restaurant. The first place he found, he went to the dumpster and dug through it, snapping up any scraps he found with his canine jaws. After twelve years in Azkaban, he wasn’t too proud to dumpster dive.
After eating his fill, not much on his emaciated stomach, he turned back to the main street. He needed to figure out where he was and how far he was from Little Whinging. Once he made it to Percy and Harry, he could worry about everything else. Following the streets towards what seemed like the center of town, Sirius found a post office.
Dover.
He was in Dover. That was good news. Dover was far from Azkaban, almost 900 miles. They wouldn’t think to look this far south for him yet.
Even better news, the basement of Dover Castle was blocked off by the aurors as a safe house. Starting during the war with Grindelwald, the DMLE had established permanent safe houses around the U.K. No member of the DMLE except the head of the office knew all the locations. Even in times of peace, they were maintained in case of emergency. Sirius knew this one because he had taken Regulus there after they had found the horcrux in the cave. There were emergency wands kept there too. Hopefully one would work well enough that Sirius could apparate to Little Whinging.
Tuesday, July 30th, 2013
Sirius had managed to apparate about half a mile from Privet Drive. He snapped the wand as soon as he landed, not wanting to risk any potential tracking the DMLE may have on these wands to know where their aurors ended up when in danger. He transformed back into a dog and trotted off.
Percy’s front and back doors had both been locked, but the back was fenced in. Sirius was able to transform and slip past the fence. There was a shed in the back, and Sirius was able to grab a small screwdriver from it. It was more suited to watches and eyeglasses than any outdoor work, but it would work great for picking the lock. The years Sirius had spent living with the children of Hermes were paying off.
The house was entirely empty, a thin layer of dust coating all the surfaces. It was July 30th, if Sirius had his days right, so Percy and Harry were due back the next day. Percy had told Sirius on one of his visits to Azkaban that he always took Harry to Camp Half-Blood in July. Hopefully, Sirius would be able to join them next year.
Sirius didn’t mind having to wait for them to show up. He could clean himself up this way. Percy had seen him at his worst in Azkaban, but Harry had never seen him like this. When Sirius had appeared to Harry, he had been in the body of his 21 year old self, the young man who had given his blood and some of his life force so Harry could live. Sirius could shower, maybe try and tame his hair a bit. Percy’s pantry had some non-perishables, so Sirius could even eat some real food.
Sirius’ first step was a shower. He didn’t recognize himself when he glanced in the mirror. He forced himself to look long enough to take a pair of shears to his hair, chopping off the matted mess to just below his chin. He would straighten it out once he was clean.
The hot water was almost too hot to bear when he first got in. Slowly, his muscles lost their tension, and he began to clean himself. The water ran putrid brown around his feet as he began the process of lathering and rinsing and lathering and rinsing and lathering and rinsing. The water had run cold before Sirius finally felt clean enough to start on his hair.
He used Percy’s entire bottles of shampoo and conditioner before he finally got out of the shower. He wrapped himself in a fluffy robe, leaving his bedraggled prison robe on the floor. He would burn it later.
He looked like a new man as he stared at himself in the mirror. With work, he was able to get a comb through his knotted locks. They were choppy and uneven when he finally got the last knot out, but he didn’t care. Percy could help him trim it later.
He dug through the medicine cabinet and grabbed a fresh toothbrush, still in its packaging. He brushed his teeth five times and flossed before he finally felt clean. Sirius wrapped the towel more firmly around his waist and made his way down the hallway.
The first bedroom he tried was obviously Harry’s. A Ballycastle Bats poster hung on the wall, and Harry’s school trunk was half tucked under the bed. Sirius smiled as he closed the door and tried the next one. A guest bedroom.
Entering Percy’s bedroom should have felt like coming home. In another life, it would have. Except Sirius had been separated from Percy for twelve years, and he had never lived in this home Percy had made with their godson. That didn’t mean Sirius didn’t know where Percy kept everything.
Percy’s sweatpants were several inches too long, and Sirius had to tie the string far too tight to keep them from falling down. An old University College London hoodie from Percy’s college days hung loose around Sirius’ shoulders. It was a grim reminder that Sirius had missed Percy’s graduation.
Making his way back downstairs, Sirius pulled peanut butter from the pantry, and frozen waffles from the freezer. He put them in the toaster and sat down to eat. He didn’t care it was nearly evening, according to the clock on Percy’s oven. It was the best food he had ever eaten.
Sirius was getting up to wash his plate and utensils when the front door creaked open. His hand flew to the sword pendant hanging from his neck, hidden from Azkaban guards and the aurors by the mist. He had checked the newspapers piled up inside the front door from the mail slot. It was the 30th. Percy shouldn’t be back yet.
“Who’s there?”
Sirius relaxed. For whatever reason, Percy had come back early.
“Show yourself,” Percy ordered. “I’m warning you.”
Sirius stepped from the kitchen to the front hall, hands raised in surrender. He smiled weakly at Percy. “Honey,” he croaked. “I’m home.”
Percy dropped riptide.